


Freckle Constellations

by AnotherFraud



Category: Actor RPF, Star Trek RPF
Genre: M/M
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2016-05-05
Updated: 2016-05-05
Packaged: 2018-06-06 14:51:22
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 5,319
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/6758572
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/AnotherFraud/pseuds/AnotherFraud
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>Alcohol, freckles, and sharpies really don't mix.</p>
            </blockquote>





	Freckle Constellations

**Author's Note:**

> This was inspired by a tumblr exchange with [Wolfi](http://wolfi-sama.tumblr.com) that got a little out of hand... Some people asked for a more elaborate version of the five lines of headcanon I wrote there, and in celebration of Pinto de Mayo I thought I'd oblige.

Despite the loudness of his phone’s alarm, it takes Zach’s alcohol-soaked brain a while to recognise it as a call to wake up. He groans at it pitifully - surely it can’t be morning yet when he’s still feeling this drunk? He cracks open one eye to locate the infernal device, shuts off the alarm, and squeezes his eyes closed again. He was having the most incredible dream, and wants to hang onto it for as long as he can. 

 _Chris is lying in this very bed, squirming and giggling, trying to get away from him, but Zach holds on tight, eventually crawling up to him and swinging one leg over Chris’ body to straddle his butt, effectively pinning him in place. Chris halfheartedly tries to buck him off, but the only thing he accomplishes by it is turning the semi Zach has been sporting since they began this nonsense into an actual hard-on._  

Zach’s hungover misery is considerably alleviated as the woozy dream image of Chris’ body wriggling underneath his floods his memory, and he smiles. _Chris is fighting him over something, trying to turn around to snitch something from his hand -_ what was it? What had he been holding? He scrunches up his face in concentration, trying to remember - _a sharpie_. That’s what is was. _Chris turns and tries to grab at the sharpie he is holding, but Zach has the upper hand and pins him down. The next thing he does is stripping Chris’ already completely unbuttoned shirt -_ (how did it become unbuttoned? he wonders, before deciding that dreams hardly make sense and that he’ll take whatever he can get) - _unbuttoned shirt off his back, which isn’t all that hard; between the alcohol coursing through his system and the giggle fits he keeps dissolving into, Chris has become remarkably pliable, his limbs a flailing mess._

Zach knows he needs to let go, knows he needs to get up and get ready, but he can’t. This isn’t his first dream involving himself and Chris in a compromising position, but it is remarkably vivid, probably because of the copious amounts of alcohol he consumed last night. _Chris’ shirt is off, and Zach is running his fingers up and down his back, before sliding them down, down, past his ridiculously small waist and under his waistband -_ no, wait, that’s not how the dream went, that’s his fantasy kicking in.

He’d been running his fingers down Chris’ back, looking for something… _Freckles_. That was it. Chris’ freckles. He suddenly gets hit by yet another vision of what has to be some earlier part of his dream. _Chris is saying he doesn’t like his moles and freckles, his cheeks pink and his eyes averted, and Zach is staring at him with open mouth…_ Zach squeezes his eyes shut again, trying to remember what happened next, but as is always the case with dreams, the images slip further and further away the harder he tries to hang onto them. 

Okay, back to the part of his dream he can actually kind of remember… _Zach is tracing the freckles and moles on Chris’ back, and Chris is making a highly amusing, whining sound; Zach thinks he’s aiming for pitiable, but it really sounds far too ridiculous for that. He leans forward, careful not to press his hard cock into the small of Chris’ back, and places the sharpie he’s managed to keep safe from his grabbing hands firmly on a big freckle on Chris’ left shoulder. He starts tracing a line across his shoulder blade, connecting the freckles, intending to form a cute little heart - but then Chris squirms again, and his line goes squiggly and veers off its course._

_"Hold still!" he yelps, leaning further over Chris’ back, shifting his weight to better keep him in place, all thoughts about not letting Chris feel his hard-on forgotten. They are both laughing now, and Zach can feel Chris’ giggles vibrate through his own chest as he draws heart after heart after heart, covering Chris’ entire back with lines that dance from freckle to freckle._

_"Zach," Chris suddenly pants, and_ - 

Zach is roughly forced back into the here and now by the sound of his second alarm; or, as he likes to call it, his get-out-of-bed-right-the-fuck-now-or-accept-you-will-spend-the-day-looking-like-trash-alarm. He groans and reluctantly gets up, determined to revisit and further analyse his dream  as soon as the day is over - but not the warm, fuzzy, distinctly un-Zach-like feelings it's giving him; he's been down that road before, and won't pain himself over it again.

 

***

 

Chris jolts awake, the loud knocks on his door echoing through his heavy head. He swings one leg out of bed, realises the motion sends the pain throbbing through his head into overdrive, and thinks better of it, instead groaning "Who is it?" from his half-reclined position.

"It’s your wake-up call. You have 20 minutes to get your ass out here Pine, don’t make me come drag you out of that bed." He should really find himself a nicer assistant.

"Okay!" he shouts back, and apparently it sounds convincing enough; after a little (and only marginally incredulous) " _hmpf"_  he hears her retreating footsteps echo through the hotel corridor. 

Chris knows he’s had a lot to drink the night before, but honestly, it wasn’t enough to deserve this level of hangover. He’s never much of a morning person; he likes to take his time, enjoys settling into the day slowly, but that’s definitely not an option right now. With a level of self-pity that even he realises is probably not entirely justified, he attempts to get out of bed again, and this time he succeeds.

He fumbles around for his glasses, but they’re not on his nightstand, which is surprising. Did he leave them in the bathroom? He stumblingly makes his way over there, flicks on the lights (big mistake - the intensity of the cold light cuts through his poor brain like a knife, temporarily rendering him even blinder than he already is), and looks around for his glasses, until the sight of himself in the bathroom mirror makes him stop dead.

"What the hell," he mumbles, the sounds of his own voice slightly foreign to him, because of the way his tongue refuses to move properly in his dry mouth. There’s something… black covering his chest? A maze of black lines, and as he reaches out to touch one of the lines he sees that his upper arm and shoulder are covered in them too. _What the hell?_ He’s starting to panic a little - is it some rash? Some side effect from the alcohol? What on earth happened to him? He frantically searches for his glasses, cursing just how terrible his vision is without them, until he finds them underneath a damp towel and shoves them a little too roughly on his nose. 

They’re not just lines. They are hearts. Little hears, big hearts - he turns slowly, and sees his back is covered in even more of them; all together, there have to be about a hundred of them, connecting every mole and freckle on his upper body. Some of them are cute and beautifully formed, others big and messy, with squiggly lines, as if the person drawing them had been laughing -

And then the memory hits him.

_Zach is on top of him, his warm body pinning his into the mattress. Chris knows he’s technically strong enough to flip over and push Zach off of him, but he feels so utterly content and relaxed that he doesn’t want to - his squirming and bucking is an act to stop Zach from noticing just how pleased he is with the contact. He feels the cold, slightly wet tip of a sharpie press into the bare skin of his shoulder, before the tickling feeling of it moving across his back sends him into a giggle fit._

_"Hold still!" Zach admonishes sternly, before pressing even more of his body into Chris’. The warm pressure of what has to be Zach’s boner pressing into the small of his back stills him for a second, before Zach draws another line and he collapses into laughter again. Zach continues drawing, until Chris has stopped giggling and suddenly gets hit by the intimacy of their current positions; Zach’s body enveloping his, one hand drawing while the others strokes his side, his hips seemingly unconsciously seeking friction, and rocking his hard cock into Chris’ back at a slow, drawn out pace. He becomes more aware of his own erection, pressed into the mattress, pre-come slowly dampening the front of his trousers._

_He pants out Zach’s name, which instantly brings Zach’s movements to a halt; clearly he too can sense the shift in the atmosphere. "Zach, what are you doing?" he asks hoarsely, but he realises a more fitting question would have been "What are_ we _doing?". Zach leans even further over him, lets Chris support his entire weight as he brings his mouth to Chris’ ear._

_"I’m drawing what I see whenever I look at you, Chris." he whispers, his mouth so close he feels Zach’s lips ghosting over his earlobe, and Chris can’t suppress a shudder of pleasure at the warm breath tickling the shell of his ear._

Chris stares at his reflection open-mouthed. "Oh shit," he pants out, as the full implication of the memory hits him. "Oh _shit."_

 

_***_

 

Zach is getting antsy. Chris isn’t exactly known for his punctuality, but keeping a room full of people eager to get started on their interview waiting for close to twenty minutes is highly unusual, even for him. He knows it’s probably because Chris has to be as hungover as he is, but that’s hardly an excuse; if _he_ could drag himself out of bed despite of that, then so could Pine.

He looks over at Chris’ assistant, who shoots him back a ‘don’t look at me, I don’t get it either’ look - when suddenly the door opens, and Chris stumbles in, muttering his apologies.

Zach looks up, ready to admonish him, but the image that meets his eyes makes him swallow back his taunt/quip/whatever he was going to say - he hadn't decided yet. Chris looks… _weird_. He’s wearing a shirt, but rather than having half his breast exposed as per usual, the shirt is completely buttoned up. The sight is so unfamiliar that it takes Zach a while to notice just how _red_ Chris looks; Chris is blushing from the collar of his shirt (which kind of looks like it’s strangling him - honestly, what is _up_ with all those closed buttons?) to the roots of his hair.

Zach frowns and opens his mouth, but Chris doesn’t so much as glance at him while he takes his seat, still muttering how sorry he is to no one in particular.

Zach recovers enough to ask "You okay man?", but before Chris gets the chance to answer one of the publicists gives the interviewer the go-ahead to start asking her questions - which means Zach’s will have to wait. For now.

 

***

 

Chris can honestly not remember ever feeling more uncomfortable in his entire life. Zach looks completely unperturbed and at ease, and keeps shooting slightly worried glances in his direction - as if _Chris_ is the one acting oddly.

Of course, this thing between them didn’t come entirely out of nowhere; they have always moved comfortably between flirting and friendship, and at this point it feels to Chris like it’s more of a running joke between them than anything more serious.

But then last night happened, and all of a sudden he’s hyper aware of every aspect of Zach’s presence besides his - like the way he keeps pushing back his hair, rubs his hand across his forearm, the way the nervous movements of his leg keep bringing it closer and closer to Chris’, until their knees are touching. The point of contact feels like it’s red hot, feels like it’s alive and electric, zinging with the pent-up energy of unspoken words between them.

He doesn’t need his publicist’s or his assistant’s slightly worried (but mainly reproachful) looks in his direction to know he’s utterly failing this interview, to know he’s letting Zach do all of the heavy lifting, letting his answers trail off into nothingness because he’s just too goddamn distracted to follow through on his answers.

Chris is always eager for lunch break, but today he’s counting down the minutes. They have the afternoon off today, which means he will have some time to work through the storm of emotions that are currently threatening to pull him apart. 

 

***

 

The interviewer is still thanking them for their time when Chris is already getting out of his seat, dodging his assistant on his way out the door. Zach can’t let Chris get away without discussing this; knowing him he’ll just lock himself up in his room, and will pretend nothing ever happened by the time he emerges again.

Not this time; Chris behaved like a weirdo, and Zach is going to make him explain himself. So he too hastily exists the room, apologising to the interviewer en route, and ignoring his own publicist’s glare. He’ll explain some other time - right now his priority is catching up with Chris. By the time he reaches the lobby, he can see Chris heading inside the elevator, so he breaks into a little sprint to catch up with him. Just before they close shut Zach manages to put his foot between the doors, joining a distinctly guilty and caught-looking Chris. Zach waits until the elevator closes before turning to him, asking "What on earth were you -"

But that’s as far as he gets, because suddenly Chris’ mouth collides with his. It’s not a kiss, exactly; it’s too rough, too wild, even, to deserve that title. Chris’ eyes are squeezed shut, his hands firmly gripping Zach’s upper arms, and even through the layer of clothing separating their skin Zach can feel Chris’ hands are hot and clammy. Before he has any time to think this through or even fully realise what is happening, Zach is pushing Chris off of him, holding him at arm’s length and trying to meet his now downcast eyes.

"Chris, what are you _doing_?" he asks, too baffled to even express just how indignant he’s feeling. 

If Chris was red before, then right now he’s downright _crimson_ , and for a split second Zach actually wonders if this is a condition of sorts - no human being should ever turn this colour, regardless of whether or not they’d just crashed their mouth into their best friend’s. 

Chris still refuses to meet his gaze, and before Zach can get another word in, the elevator slides open; they’ve arrived at their floor. Chris darts through the doors, escaping Zach’s hold on him, but Zach follows.

"Pine, you are not getting away without talking to me. What just -"

" _Sshh_!" Chris finally snaps, his eyes still not meeting Zach’s, although they are now hovering somewhere near his collarbone; an improvement from their former fixation with his feet.

"Not here."

Chris leads them back to his hotel room, and Zach impatiently waits as it takes Chris two tries to manoeuvre the card system. Chris lunges inside the room, leaving Zach to follow and close the door behind them. By the time Zach reaches the bedroom, Chris is already pacing.

"Chris, you’re going to have to start giving me some explanations. You arrive spectacularly late, you look _weird_ , you act even _weirder_ , let me answer all of your questions as well as mine, and then you just run out of that room like you are being chased. Not to even mention what just happened in that elevator -"

Zach stops, for Chris’ eyes are finally meeting his, the bright blue of his irises seeming even brighter than usual in his pink face. 

"Zach… Don’t you remember?'

 

***

 

When Chris went in for a kiss in that elevator, he knew he was taking a risk. But he hadn’t expected this level of bewilderment on Zach’s part. 

"Zach," he asks, looking up to meet Zach’s dark, confused gaze. "Don’t you remember?"

"Remember what, Chris?"

Chris swallows. This cannot be happening - and yet, Zach astonishment looks completely sincere. Chris knows they were both drunk, but surely Zach hadn’t been _that_ drunk? Drunk enough to forget?

Suddenly Chris gets hit by a new, alarming thought; what if Zach had never intended to do or say those things? What if it had been purely the alcohol talking, and Zach hadn’t meant any of it? The mere idea that that could be what was going on here alarms Chris to such a degree that he feels all coherency and composure - not that there was much left of either at this point - leave him.

Zach was looking at him, a soft, slightly worried frown marring his forehead. 

Chris knows there is no way he’ll get the words out, not now - so instead he reaches for the buttons on his shirt, intending to _show_ Zach, confront him with proof of what had happened between them the night before. 

By the time he has three buttons open, Zach’s look of worry has turned to one of alarm; "Chris - Chris, there’s no need for that. Let’s talk, buddy - what are you doing?".

But Chris ignores him, continuing to clumsily unbutton his shirt. He can't tell Zach, not after the way he’d embarrassed himself in that elevator, but he can show him. By the time there are just a couple of buttons left to undo he loses his patience, opting to tear the shirt off over his head instead, getting tangled in it for a brief moment because he had forgotten to unbutton one of his cuffs.

By the time he flings the shirt aside, having won the brief impromptu battle with the piece of clothing, Zach is staring at him with open mouth. Despite his embarrassment, which is evidenced by a splotchy redness now blooming across his chest, Chris can’t help feeling a little vindicated as well; there is no way Zach can talk his way out of _this_. 

 

***

 

"Oh god" Zach wheezes, as soon as he is confronted with visual proof of the fact that his dream from the previous night was, in fact, reality. "So it actually happened?"

Chris looks up at him, clearly confused. "What?"

"I did this. I drew those hearts - it wasn’t a dream?"

"You thought it was a _dream_?"

"Of course I thought it was a dream - how could it actually happen? How _did_ it actually happen? What possessed us to do that?"

Chris frowns a little at that. "What possessed _us_? I might be flexible, Zachary, but even I can’t draw on my own fucking _back_ " he replies indignantly, turning around to show the myriad of hearts connecting the freckles and moles all over his back.

Zach’s mind is in too much turmoil to reply to that, so instead he just continues staring. Did _all_ of it happen? He tries to remember the dream - no, the _memory_ of what had occurred between them; how he’d been teasing Chris in the bar, how they’d taken it to his room, how he’d straddled Chris, how his hard-on had pressed into the small of Chris’ back…

Before Zach has recovered enough to form any coherent sort of response, Chris is suddenly trying to pull his shirt back on, muttering something about having made an ‘epic mistake’ - and that finally snaps Zach out of it. He quickly marches over to Chris, and rather than voicing any of the conflicting thoughts and emotions wrecking his brain at the moment, he grabs the shirt Chris is attempting to pull back over his head, impatiently tosses it aside, places his hands on either side of Chris’ pink, warm face - and soundly kisses him on the mouth.

Chris is evidently too surprised at Zach’s move (which, he has to admit, even he himself did not entirely see coming) to respond immediately, but Zach is insistent; he slowly trails his tongue against the seam of Chris’ lips, _so soft, softer than he’d ever imagined_ , coaxing them to open. When Chris opens his mouth a fraction, Zach wastes no time in slipping his tongue inside, insistently exploring the inside of Chris’ mouth. Finally, _finally_ , Chris is beginning to respond; he opens his mouth wider, and Zach can feel his tongue meeting his, gliding against and tangling with his, deepening their kiss. 

Zach finally breaks away to catch his breath, leaning his forehead against Chris’. His gaze trawls down Chris’ neck, onto his chest, and the little scattering of hears he finds there. He follows their outline with the tip of his index finger, which makes the skin underneath it flush brightly, leaving a pink trail in the wake of Zach’s touch.

"Look at you," he breathes against one of Chris’ cheeks, cupping the other with the hand that isn’t on his chest. "Look at how beautiful you are." At that, he can feel Chris’ cheek and ear turn warm underneath his fingers, as he slowly caresses Chris’ face. He is enjoying this.

"You were so brave to kiss me in that elevator, Chris. If only I’d remembered, I would never have pushed you off. I'm so sorry." Chris’ breath quickens at that, his eyes still caught on the hand with which Zach was trailing the hearts on his chest, but that is now gliding lower to settle onto Chris’ trim waist. 

"Do you know that when I woke up this morning, I thought it was all a dream?" Zach asks. "I remembered straddling you, remembered the way you squirmed as I tried to draw all of these - but I thought it had to be a dream, because it was too good to be true." Chris finally meets his gaze at that.

"Really?" he asks, and the uncertainty and shyness in that one little word awaken something fierce, something both protective and possessive, in Zach. "Really." he responds without hesitation, his own eyes holding onto Chris’ gaze. 

"Why are those hearts still there? Didn’t they wash off?" Zach asks, both of his hands now caressing Chris' waist.

"Ehm, I, uuhm…." Chris replies, and it takes everything Zach has not to laugh at this display of eloquence. "I didn’t try… I - I wanted to keep them." Chris goes even brighter magenta at that, averting his eyes; Zach feels his cock hardening at just how _endearing_ Chris is like this. "So I just covered them under a shirt..."

"Do you remember what you said when I asked you why you drew them?" Chris continues, clearly holding his breath in anticipation of Zach’s reply. And suddenly, Zach does remember, the memory as vivid and sharp as if he hadn’t been under the influence of a ridiculous amount of alcohol.

"I told you I was drawing what I saw whenever I looked at you." he responds, no hesitation in his voice whatsoever. "Chris," he says, tipping Chris' chin up to force him into meeting his gaze, Chris' shyness ironically emboldening him. "I am in love with you."

Chris _whines_ at that - and it’s all Zach can take. He claims Chris’ mouth again, his hands moving to cup Chris’ ass, pushing his lower body into his and _growling_ into the kiss when he feels Chris’ erect cock push into his own.

 

***

 

Chris is panting, hard, while the feeling of Zach pressing down on his body completely overwhelms him. All of this feels like it’s not quite real - he’s fantasised about this for too long, has spent too much time meticulously dreaming up scenarios of how exactly things would be between them - and he can’t quite believe how fast things are moving now that it’s actually happening. Zach is tracing the little hearts on his arms and chest with his tongue, his saliva cool against his own burning flesh. Chris moans at the sensation, and shivers when Zach’s tongue makes a detour to lave at his nipple. Obviously pleased at Chris’ response, Zach moves his hand over the other nipple, pulling and circling in time with the ministrations of his mouth. Chris’ cock is so hard, and he is so eager for any sort of relief, that he starts squirming in an attempt to rub his erection against Zach’s hip. Zach chuckles - honestly, how is Zach still this in control? - before reaching down between them and leisurely _petting_ the bulge in Chris’ trousers. 

" _Zaaaach_ ," Chris moans, the soft touches somehow even more maddening than no contact at all. 

"What do you want, Chris?" Zach asks, moving up from his nipples to nip and suck at Chris’ collarbone and neck, marking him while awaiting Chris’ response. "Tell me what you want."

"I want to come." Chris whines, bucking into Zach’s hand, desperate for more contact.

Finally Zach takes pity on him, and he expertly undoes Chris’ belt and trousers, reaching inside Chris’ briefs to take a firm hold of his cock. Chris closely watches for Zach’s reaction, and can’t help but feel a little pleased when he sees Zach’s obvious surprise at the size of him.

"Fuck Pine, I always knew you were packing, but this…" Zach says, and Chris is convinced that if there was a square inch on his body that hadn’t turned bright pink by now, those words would do the trick. Zach wastes no time, thumbing the head of Chris’ cock and spreading around the ample amount of precum that is leaking from the slit. Zach’s hand is rough and firm, his sure and steady movements closely resembling the ones Chris himself uses when masturbating. He doesn’t last long; a couple of minutes later, he’s coming hard across his own stomach, Zach milking him until he hisses out of sensitivity. Zach kisses him again, deep and possessive, before moving across Chris’ body and licking at the come splattered there. Chris is entranced, still high from his orgasm, so he doesn’t immediately notice that Zach’s hand has moved into his own boxers; while licking Chris' stomach, he is also busy bringing himself off.

"What are you doing?" Chris asks, surprised, quickly coming down from his orgasm high to frown down at Zach.

 

***

 

Zach doesn’t stop, instead looking up at Chris quizzically while he continues to jack off.

"What does it look like I’m doing, Pine?" he asks, unable to keep some of the amusement out of his voice, despite how close he already is.

"I want to do that," Chris replies, a little frown pulling at his thick eyebrows. Zach chuckles.

"It’s fine Chris, you don’t have to." He’s so happy he got to bring off Chris, that he honestly doesn’t care about Chris not being able to do the same for him - this was already more than he’d ever dared hope would happen between them.

But Chris is clearly not appeased. "Don’t _have_ to? I know I don’t _have_ to, I _want_ to, Zach." Chris says, reaching out for his hand to still his movements. 

"Chris, it’s fine - this is new to you, and I don’t want to move too fast and risk having you freak out -"

" _Freak out_?" Chris really only seems able to parrot him at the moment, but the small frown has turned into outright disappointment. And something else as well; there’s another emotion at work behind those blue eyes, and if Zach didn’t know any better, he’d think Chris is a little... hurt.

"I know you’ve never done this before, and I don’t want you to have a Big Gay Freakout, Chris, not now - I just want to get off, we can talk later." Zach moves to grab his own cock again, which is rapidly losing interest at the unexpected turn the events have taken.

"You know nothing, Zachary Quinto." Chris replies, a small smirk suddenly appearing. 

"Oh Chris, don’t you fucking dare quote Game of Kings at me right now -" of all the times Chris brought up that stupid show, this one was by far the most poorly timed.

"It’s Game of _Thrones_ , you barbarian, and that’s not what I’m doing." Suddenly Chris is up on his knees, pushing against Zach’s torso so he’s the one lying down. Zach is still too baffled to do anything but comply.

"I’ve told you before that I’m bi." Chris says, while tugging Zach’s trousers and boxers down his legs, moving to take them off completely rather than having them sit awkwardly around Zach's feet.

"I know you are _in theory_ , but that’s not the same as -"

"Zach?" Chris interrupts.

"Chris?" he responds wearily.

"Shut the fuck up, and enjoy this." Zach is trying to think of some witty response, but all of a sudden Chris has taken his cock inside his mouth, and is swirling his tongue around the head like an absolute pro. The air suddenly seems to leave Zach’s lungs, and all he can do is scrabble at the messy sheets underneath him, reaching for _something_ to hold onto.

When he looks down, he finds Chris staring up at him, his eyes crinkled in smug delight, and before Zach can admonish him for this inordinate amount of glee the fucker actually _hums_ , and it’s taking all of Zach's self restraint not to come then and there.

Chris starts speeding up the rhythm, alternating between lavishing attention on the head of Zach’s cock and taking him in all the way down to the root, while the hand that he's not using to steady himself plays with Zach's balls, cupping them, and softly rolling them through the palm of his hand. All the while, Chris' eyes - all shy and downcast less than ten minutes ago - boldly meet Zach’s, the intensity of his gaze and the sight of those pink, plush lips pulled taut around his erection rapidly making Zach come undone.

"Chris - Chris. I’m going to - I’m -" but Chris only stills his movements, instead sucking harder than ever, while the hand that had been fondling his balls suddenly presses down on Zach’s perineum. He loses it at that, coming inside Chris’ mouth, who keeps sucking him, swallowing down his come without ever averting his gaze. Chris only moves away when Zach feels his cock softening, and the _smirk_ Chris is sporting while moving to lay down beside Zach would be infuriating, if it wasn’t for the fact that that smug mouth has just given Zach the best blowjob of his entire life.

"How’s that for a big, gay freakout, hmm, Zachary?"

 

***

 

"There you two are. We were about to send out a searching party."

"Good morning to you too!" Chris replies sweetly, smiling as his assistant just _huffs_ at him, clearly not deigning that worthy of a response. 

"Chris, what is up with your shirt? Why is it buttoned all the way up again, it looks… off." Chris hears rather than sees Zach’s response at that, a little puff of breath giving away his amusement. 

"I uhh, had some… Ehh, there’s something in my neck that I don’t think -" Her frown stops him short. 

"You are hiding hickies." 

"Eeeh…Maybe?" he responds, deliberately letting his voice get ridiculously high. Chris can’t keep from smiling as he hears Zach giggle at that, but Zach's amusement quickly disappears as the next critical question is aimed at him rather than at Chris.

"And what about you?"

"What about me?" Zach asks innocently. It’s Chris’ turn to smile now; when he discovered the myriad of love bites that had come to join the now faint outlines of hearts all over his arms and chest, he’d paid Zach back in kind.

"Uhm, I…-"

"You know what?" Chris' assistant interrupts him. "I don’t even care. Just get in there and do your interviews - I don’t care how ridiculous you look with your matching shirts. I’m done babysitting you two."

"Aye aye sir." Chris responds, before meeting Zach’s gaze. It’s warm, and amused, and full of promise, and Chris starts counting down the hours until their first break.

 

 

 

**Author's Note:**

> [Here is the post that started it all](http://chrisfine.tumblr.com/post/142656722402) \- I didn't want to post it in the beginning of the fic, since it kinda gives away the plot. 
> 
> Thank you very much for reading!


End file.
